Mikan no Kotoba
by Z3xi0n Ll4m4
Summary: It was a dark and stormy night as this authoress sat down to type on her brother's 1994 IBM ThinkPad TM . Sadly, her mind was wandering from the story she was supposed to be working on and instead spawned a series of one-shot drabbles. Oh, the horror...
1. Chapter 1

A/N Well. First fanfic I thought was suitable to publish. : D Let's see how you guys enjoy this drabble series thing.

I've always watched you. From afar I've observed. You seemed so calm, sitting in the corner, secluded from others. Your nose was buried in a book every once in a while. Other times I'd spot you gazing out the window.

But I didn't stare because of the far-away look in your eyes. I wasn't drawn to the intense concentration when you were reading. None of that appealed to me, for one reason and one reason only.

I never saw you like that.

More precisely, those expressions didn't exist for you. Always your face was blank, like an empty shell. No matter what you or I were doing, when I looked over from my circle of friends, you'd look the same. Vacant eyes regarding each and every occurrence with a solid stone face.

I have to admit, that intrigued me all the more.

At first I thought you were just keeping it in, hiding your nature from the world. "Some people are known to do that," I reasoned. But as time wore on and I gained more memories of you I realized that was not the case. You didn't express feeling because there were never any chances for you to.

No friends approached you and talked and laughed and caused bright smiles. No teacher walked up to congratulate or reprimand you for a grade. Not even bullies touched you. It was like you were a ghost. No one noticed you. No one thought about giving you feeling. No one tried to take away your loneliness or longed to see your expressions.

No one, except me.

Today was the day I planned it. I wanted to see your emotion. Over the months and years we've been attending the same school I came to realize that my interest in you was more than a passing fancy. It was infatuation. It was love. It was important in my plan. It was how I was going to see your emotion. What better way to provoke a response out of someone than a love confession? Or an impromptu kiss? That was one thing I was sure you'd never expected in your life. A man, of all people, to profess his love to you and follow it with a heart-felt kiss.

I wanted to see that look of astonishment, quickly followed by a blushing face and flustered reaction. That was the one thing I wanted to see most of all.

I waited patiently at the gate, where I knew you would exit. I didn't want to call you out; I wanted our first official meeting to be a lasting memory for you. I expected to wait a while, since I had seen you before, meticulously going through your bag and books to make sure you had all your assignments and everything else you would need. I always thought that was a bit cute, the way you examined things in an off-hand manner.

That was why I abandoned my look-out for a moment to chat with some passing friends. I didn't leave the gate, thinking it'd be alright, but I foolishly took my gaze from it to pay attention to my conversation.

That was why I missed you when you walked out.

You were already half-way across the street that lay right outside out school's entrance when I noticed your retreating form. Beginning to panic, I uttered a quick apology to my friend and dashed after you, not once thinking that I could just try again tomorrow.

I was catching up to you already, thanks to your slow walk and my quick pace. You had only just reached the sidewalk when I opened my mouth to call out to you from the middle of the street.

I only just managed to get out your name when the car hit me.

I didn't feel a thing.

I didn't even see you turn at hearing your name called, or how your eyes widened.

**I didn't see the emotion.**

My vision blacked for a second, and everything was muted. My side felt warm and cold at the same time. It was an interesting feeling. Blearily, pictures filtered it, swimming in my head. Ah. So that's why I couldn't see. My eyes were closed.

I saw your face in the corner of my eye and struggled to turn my head toward you. It was no use; I couldn't make out your expression. I tried to say to you that I loved you. That I'd loved you for so long. I tried to push myself off the ground to kiss you, to show you my love instead. That was strange. I couldn't seem to find my arms. I think they were still there. I wondered why they wouldn't move. I blamed that weird warm and cold feeling.

I heard panicked voices in the background. Damn my hearing. I would give it up just to see your face and be able to tell you how I felt. I would give it all up to be able to press my lips against yours.

I would give it all.

My vision blacked out again. That was strange. I don't remember closing my eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

When he walked into the room, I noticed his limp. I noticed the way he carried himself, carefully, like his leg was in pain. I noticed, and I hope no one else did. He took his usual seat next to me, dropping his book bag on the floor like he was glad to get rid of the burden. He always sat next to me, in the empty seat that was forever in need of an occupier. No one ever sat there. No one ever sat next to me. So he made a point to choose that one.

I was watching him again, trying to figure out why he was in pain. Did he trip? I wonder if he twisted his ankle. I didn't know. I still wondered though. I wondered all through class, eyes glued to him and his expression. I was being careful though. I looked away when ever his gaze wandered toward me. I didn't want him to know I was staring.

I said before that he sat next to me because no one else did. But I didn't mention that that was as far as our relationship extended. We didn't hang out and we weren't friends. I barely knew his name and I was sure he didn't know mine. No ever bothered to call it, or at least they've never called my given name, so he's probably never even heard it spoken.

Would he get mad if he knew I was watching him? I wasn't sure. Maybe he would just treat me with the same indifference like he always did.

Well, he didn't always treat me like that. One day, when my classmates were picking on me again he stepped in to help me. He didn't even say a word. It was pretty cool. He just walked in and slammed his hand on my desk, thoroughly mellowing out all of us. I was a bit frightened too, actually.

But I was grateful to him. I didn't really understand why he did it though. He's seen people bully me before and hasn't stepped in. Maybe it was because he noticed there was a difference from all the other times? I usually ignore the taunts thrown at me, but this time they were saying things that just struck a nerve with me. I didn't want to lash out though. That would just make it worse for me.

But he must have noticed and intervened to help me, right? Otherwise he would just have stayed at his desk, reclining in his chair like he always did; not a care in the world.

He worried about me at that time and interfered with my business because he wanted to help, and now I'm worried about him and want to do the same.

Normally I would make my way out of the class as soon as the bell rang, but I decided to lag behind a bit this time to see if I could talk to him. I know he likes to take his time heading to his next class.

When he finally picked up his books after stretching and letting out a yawn, he meandered over to the door. He raised an eyebrow slightly when I followed after him. He didn't say anything though. He never says things to me, or anyone else for that matter.

We walked in silence for a while as we walked to his next class. It was in the opposite direction as mine, but I didn't care. I wouldn't mind being late for this. It was more important to me.

I didn't know what to say to you, something to use as an icebreaker, so I decided to launch into the main thing I wanted to talk about. I swallowed nervously. I'd never had a proper conversation with you before.

I opened my mouth and asked if you were feeling okay. I hated how my voice trembled.

You glanced down at me, regarding me with your cool gaze.

_Why?_ You ask. _Why do I want to know? _

Why do I want to know? Because I care, I want to say.

_I was just wondering. _That was true too. That wasn't really what I wanted to say though. But I'm too embarrassed to say it, so I guess 'I was wondering' would have to do.

You made a small humming noise, one of contemplation. _A skateboarding accident_, you say.

I nodded and we lapsed into another silence. I wonder if that counted as a conversation. Or would it just be small-talk?

There were so many things I wasn't sure of regarding you. I wonder if you would mind if I thought of you as my little enigma? There I went again, wondering about you. I laughed a bit in my head and felt a small smile cross my face. You certainly weren't a small enigma.

I glanced back up at you and felt my breath stop momentarily. You were watching me.

I blushed as I realized I still had that smile on my face. Did you think that was weird? I was smiling for seemingly no reason, after all.

You just turned your head away from me when our eyes met.

We walked in silence the rest of the way to your class.

Strangely I couldn't get rid of the light pink that dusted my cheeks.

I hope you couldn't see that.

And I hope…I hope no one else did.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N This story is actually a reaaaaly late birthday present for my friend Yuki no Iro. I kinda forgot to mention this detail before, but now you know. I'm also going to cheat a bit and dedicate this chapter to another person too. *Directs spotlight at Little-pyro-girl*

I never saw you, no matter how much you've seen me. I never looked over and caught you gaze. I never noticed that you were the one who sat next to me. I never particularly thought about the people around me.

I wonder why… It just seemed unimportant, I suppose. Why should I care about the people sitting next to me when I didn't even care about anyone else in the class? They were all uninteresting and I had better things to worry about.

Take for instance, my grades. Those were much more important. Why would I need friends once I graduate and get a high-ranking job? Can they look good on a resume? Can they be used to code programs? I should think not.

That's why I didn't care for them. They were of no use to me.

But one day our exam scores came in. I wasn't the top student anymore. You were. I didn't even know who you were at the time. I just knew I had to beat you and regain my title. That was all.

So I sought you out, intending to do something, anything; I just wasn't sure what. I wasn't really mad, I guess. But I wasn't going to sit there and see what I've worked for taken out from under me.

Imagine my surprise when I found out from the office that you were in my class. But that was nothing compared to what I felt when I realized you sat right next to me, no less! Well, now that I knew you, it was time to confront you.

I entered before class started, and saw you sitting on your desk, talking to a group of chattering friends who surrounded you. I was starting to have second thoughts about confronting you, at least at the moment. I didn't want to with you surrounded by all those people. Swallowing my nervousness, I stalked over, determination written on my face.

_Axel! _I nearly shouted.

You looked shocked – No, not really shocked, more like you had gotten an unexpected present – and smiled pleasantly at me.

_Yes? _At this point I still didn't know what I would say to you. Would I yell at you for taking my rank? Or would congratulations be in order first?

Nothing I thought of was even close to what came out of my mouth.

_Tutor me! _I felt my face flush slightly at that. It was like admitting defeat. But you just smiled and hopped off your desk, taking my hand in yours and shaking it vigorously.

_Sure thing! _I didn't think it was humanly possible for a smile to radiate light. But one thing was sure, and that was that I was smitten.

I didn't know anyone at the school, because they were unimportant and useless to me. But suddenly, you were important _and _useful! You became my treasured someone who I've kept around for a long time.

But you, of course, already know all of that.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N Happy Akuroku day~~! In celebration I'm going to actually post for once… I'll even try to get more than one chapter up! Sorry for the shortness of this one -_-''

* * *

I always thought I'd be trapped here, that I'd spend the rest of my life in this town. I always figured I'd be going to a local high school and a local college. It's been fifteen years and I'm already well on my way to accomplishing one of those.

I always tried to acknowledge that this life was my fate, like my parents told me. I tried to come to terms with the fact that this was the life people intended for me to live.

But I couldn't.

I couldn't look over at the white-picket fence of the empty house next to me and accept that, one day, I would move into a house like that and have a nice wife and children.

I couldn't accept that I would grow old here, never having the opportunity to look at all the life out there.

I didn't want any of this. I wanted to go somewhere, anywhere, other than here. I just didn't know how.

How would I, a fifteen-going-on-sixteen high school student, go anywhere on his own?

But that's where you came in. You, my friend who were one of the few people to ever leave this town, had invited me to come visit you in the city.

Until I figured out a solution, I wouldn't mind a little breather from this bleary life.

I wouldn't mind it at all.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N Sorry, this one isn't romantic. Unless psychotic stalker obsessiveness counts... warning, this one's pretty graphic. (blood and such)

* * *

I loved telling stories, almost as much as you did. But even more than telling them, I loved reading the ones you wrote. The beautiful red arranged not in words, but pictures. Pictures of beauty reminiscent of red chrysanthemums, flowing sweetly throughout the street. Some would say it looked disorganized and disgusting; horrifying and gut-wrenching. But I loved it. I loved it and always wanted more.

You were always happy to comply with a willing audience. You gave such marvelous shows, moving the plot along smoothly and evenly, keeping me entranced. I never had any criticism or suggestions, everything seemed so perfect and wonderful to me. The only thing I craved was more and more of them.

Sometimes you let me tell the stories with you, laughing happily with me as we let the red fly through the air. It always got everywhere, covering us with art. Your face looked beautiful then, with crimson streaks. It matched the color of your hair quite nicely.

But as time wore on I became more and more dissatisfied with your work for some reason. I didn't understand why. It was still beautiful and captivating. So why? As you invited me to come and watch, and occasionally, to join you, I was left with a growing feeling that gnawed at my consciousness.

I tried to figure out what it was, so I could finally stop it. So I could finally stop this sense of empty hunger. I thought about all the feeling that we humans felt. Love… That was not it. Love felt happy, and made your heart full. This was not it. Hate… Hate was burning. Burning like anger, which I had felt before. I felt no fire within me. Jealousy… That might be possible. Was I envious of your lovely stories? The stories that I always viewed as better than mine? No… I was not. I had already accepted that you were better and was grateful to be able to watch you, who was so talented, perform those stories so astonishingly.

Before, I had described this feeling as being empty and hungry, and it now occurred to me that that might just be what I had described it as before. Hunger. Raw, insatiable hunger. I wanted more of you, more than you were giving now. The deaths you caused were so striking and marvelous, but they were no longer enough for me. I wanted something bigger, something better. Something to make my skin tingle with excitement. But what? What could be like that? Whose blood would make the best paint for that story? How would something wonderful like that be illustrated? I was so unsure. But then I realized.

What about yours? I loved watching you covered in the blood of others, slashing wildly and laughing madly. Wouldn't it be infinitely more ravishing if it was your own blood that you were coated with, and not the blood of strangers? It was a strange concept, I must admit, and it did discourage me a bit once I realized that I would only be able to see this performance once. I soon stacked the pros against the cons and decided to follow through with my idea anyway. This was too great a thing to turn down.

* * *

I approached you, smiling as always, although now I was happier than the time you and I first met. The time I first witnessed a story being told in such a way as you did. You had been surprised to see me standing there, watching intently. Sidling up to me, you moved you face close and spoke in a menacing whisper, asking if I wanted to be killed too. You didn't intimidate me, and I think you knew that. I answered honestly, telling you that what you did was amazing; that I wanted to see more of it. You then threw back your head and laughed openly, quite loudly and for a few seconds. When your laughter had quieted down to a few chuckles, you asked if I wanted to learn how to make art like you. I nodded, and that's when my training started. I never did reach your level of beauty in my art.

But now I would. I would with your help. It was going to be beauty, the likes of which you had never witnessed before.

You were going to be so proud.

We set off to find a nice canvas and some paint to use, and soon came across some sitting alone in a park. Parks were great. The red always looked good on green. It reminded me of Christmas. I let you take care of your performance first; I figured you'd want to do that before I killed you. Last memories should always be fond ones.

While your back was turned, I pulled out my knife, the one you had given me as a gift long ago. How fitting. It made it even more special. You were crouched over, examining your handiwork with glee. I hoped you kept that smile as I killed you. That would be wonderful. Silently, I crept up behind you – you had taught me how to do that too; walking silently – and raised the knife slowly, intending to savor the moment. Luckily you didn't turn around. I wouldn't want you spoiling the fun.

"Axel," I whispered. "I have a present for you…" You still didn't turn around, only letting out a short "Hmm?" in response.

"You're going to love it…"

I struck.

As I hacked away madly at your body, my face stretched broadly with a grin, I loved how your eyes reflected your surprise and astonishment, but mostly I loved the fear I saw there. I had never seen you afraid before. Who could find anything to be afraid of when they spent their free time carelessly cutting down innocent people? Only monsters did that, and monsters were never afraid. We were monsters, so therefore we also had nothing we feared.

Until now. As I saw the fear brimming in your eyes, and heard the horrible screams coming from your mouth, I understood something. I feared death also. I would have screamed and shouted the way you were now if someone killed me. The way all those other people did. Suddenly, your blood wasn't that beautiful anymore. It just gave me a horrible feeling in my gut, a feeling like the one I had felt before, only worse. Much, much worse.

I stopped my onslaught on you and stumbled back, looking in horror at your mutilated body. I had done that. I had killed you. No…you were still breathing, but just barely. I stifled a sob and fell back, holding my hand over my mouth as I struggled not to vomit.

Your hand reached out shaking, and you whispered my name quietly, so quietly it was almost carried away by the air.

"Ro…xas…" Slowly, you dragged yourself toward me, a trail of blood smearing the ground you crawled over.

A fresh wave of terror swept through me. Frantically, I backed away till I was against a cold brick wall.

"No!" I shrieked. "D-don't come near me! Don't touch me! Don't!" You hand was reaching toward me again. It was too close. You let out a labored breath, and your hand wavered in the air before falling back down to the pavement.

Were you dead?

Trembling, I got to my feet and moved away slowly. You didn't move. I stumbled and braced myself against the wall, not once taking my eyes off you. You didn't move. Gulping, I finally tore my gaze from your immobile figure and dashed away, as far as I could go. I had to get away from you.

I had to.


End file.
